


patience

by kazzydolyn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (but not a Soulmate AU), Akaashi Keiji is Bad at Feelings, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Bokuto Koutarou is Patient Actually, Falling In Love, First Kiss, M/M, Soulmates, sOWLmates, they are just Meant To Be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzydolyn/pseuds/kazzydolyn
Summary: Nobody else could see that for all of Akaashi’s patience with Bokuto, Bokuto was just as patient with Akaashi. Never pushing, but never pulling away. Never demanding, never asking for more than Akaashi could give.Which only made Akaashi want to give him everything.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 38
Kudos: 833
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	patience

Bokuto Koutarou is a lot to handle.

That’s what everyone says. He’s too loud too brash too moody _god_ does he ever _shut up?_

At first people are drawn to his bright energy. He’s friendly and fun and easy to be around—for short periods of time. But it doesn’t take long for their interest to dwindle, replaced with annoyed complaints and excuses to be elsewhere. They’re relieved when they manage to escape his attention.

Eventually, they all give up.

Everyone except Akaashi.

Akaashi Keiji is a lost cause. 

That’s what everyone says. He’s too quiet too cold too blunt couldn’t he at least _try_ to be a little nicer?

At first people are drawn to his calm mystique. They try once or twice to make friendly conversation before taking his neutral expression and lacking responses to mean disinterest and disdain. They deem it a waste of effort and grow bored when they can’t seem to win his attention.

Eventually, they all give up.

Everyone except Bokuto.

Akaashi’s first year at Fukuroudani Academy is full of late night volleyball practices and bright golden eyes and pitying whispers that follow him down the hall.

_Isn’t he the one Bokuto’s always hanging on? That poor first year. How did he get stuck with such a burden? He must have the patience of a saint._

Most days Bokuto barges into his classroom, yelling “AGHAAASHEE! Let’s have lunch together!” And it’s not a question, so he doesn’t wait for an answer, he just grabs a free chair and plops himself down at the other end of Akaashi’s desk, unpacking his bento and falling quiet only for fleeting moments when his mouth is too full of food to speak.

Akaashi never returns Bokuto’s smiles, or initiates conversation, or goes to Bokuto’s classroom to meet for lunch there. But none of that ever seems to discourage him.

The other students watch Bokuto with wary expressions as he gestures wildly and talks at a reckless, breathless pace, and when they look at Akaashi their faces are etched with distress and concern, like they’re witnessing a hostage situation. They’re too intimidated by the loud upperclassman to actually intervene and attempt a rescue, but they wonder with their eyes, _Do you need to be saved?_

They don’t realize that Bokuto is the one doing the saving.

Every now and then, someone comments on his relationship with Bokuto.

_You’re really patient with him_ , the kind ones say.

_Sucks to be you_ , the unkind ones say.

_We’ll help you think of excuses to get away from him_ , his teammates offer.

But nobody else could see that for all of Akaashi’s patience with Bokuto, Bokuto was just as patient with Akaashi. Never pushing, but never pulling away. Never demanding, never asking for more than Akaashi could give.

Which only made Akaashi want to give him everything.

Halfway through volleyball practice on a sticky August afternoon, the team takes a water break. Bokuto latches a sweaty arm around Akaashi’s neck and gives a rambling recap of his last dozen spikes as though Akaashi wasn’t the one who set up each of those shots.

“Hey, stop bothering Akaashi, man,” a disgruntled third year shouts in their direction.

“I’m not bothering him!” Bokuto shouts back, and he sounds so _sure_ it makes Akaashi want to question him about it. So later, he does.

“How do you know you’re not bothering me?” he asks when it’s just the two of them.

“Huh?” Bokuto says, squinting and giving Akaashi a look like it’s a ridiculous question. “Well, you would tell me if I was.”

“Hmm,” Akaashi says. Because he’s right.

“Does it ever bother you?” Akaashi finds himself asking, fiddling with his fingers out of habit. “That I don’t really talk.”

But he means so much more than his words— _I don’t make the effort you do, I don’t show my feelings, is that okay, am I enough the way I am?_

Again, Bokuto gives him a look like Akaashi is being ridiculous. “Why would that bother me? You’re real good at listening! Besides, I talk enough for the both of us! It balances out.”

And Akaashi hears so much more than his words— _You’re enough, it’s okay, I understand you._

“You talk enough for ten people, Bokuto-san,” he says mildly.

And Bokuto just laughs and launches into a long-winded rant about the anime he started watching over the weekend.

Maybe Akaashi is in a good mood. Maybe Bokuto is wearing down his walls. Maybe Akaashi is in a good mood _because_ Bokuto is wearing down his walls.

But it happens like this: after five months of lunches and extended volleyball practices and spending nearly every day together, Bokuto cracks a joke and Akaashi’s passive expression cracks in return.

Akaashi lifts his hand to his mouth, attempting to cover the laugh that escapes.

And ever-in-motion Bokuto goes completely still.

Akaashi drops his hand and shifts uncomfortably under his stare. Hesitantly, he asks, “What?”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you laugh,” Bokuto says, awestruck.

“Sorry,” Akaashi says, because he can’t think of any other response.

“Don’t be!” Bokuto says, breaking into a grin. “It was worth the wait.” And the look on his face is the same one Akaashi has seen him wear on the volleyball court a hundred times before, like he’s hungry for the game, eager for a challenge, ravenous for victory.

“I’m gonna make you do it again,” he promises.

And Akaashi doesn’t doubt him for a second.

On a cool evening in October, they stay late for extra practice, like always; then they walk home together, like always.

“Hey, hey, do you wanna come over for dinner?” Bokuto asks when they reach the street where their paths diverge and they’re meant to go their separate ways. It’s the forty-second time Bokuto has asked this question over the last six months, undeterred by the forty-one _‘no’_ s Akaashi has previously given him.

Akaashi stares at him for a moment, and instead of answering with yet another _no_ he says, “You’re a very patient person, Bokuto-san.”

And Bokuto tips his head back, letting out a boisterous laugh that echoes through the night. “Nobody has ever said that to me before!”

_Nobody else knows you like I do_ , Akaashi finds himself thinking, wildly, possessively. The thought is followed by a sting of shame—who is he to think he has some kind of claim on Bokuto, to think he’s somehow special, to think—

“I guess they don’t know me like you do,” Bokuto interrupts his thoughts with a soft smile and softer eyes, and the whirlwind in Akaashi’s mind dies down in an instant.

For the first time in his life Akaashi doesn’t pause to think though the scenarios, to weigh the pros and cons, to consider the consequences of his actions. He lurches forward, grabs Bokuto by his collar, and yanks him close for a bruising kiss.

Their lips crash together and Bokuto is grabbing his hips and kissing him back and it’s all teeth and heat and urgent motions, fierce and rough and fast. Akaashi’s heart is a wild thing, beating a frantic rhythm against his ribcage and he’s never been so scared in his life. Terrified to stop because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, terrified of the words that will spill from Bokuto’s lips when they’re no longer pressed against his, terrified of tasting air that isn’t warmed by Bokuto’s breath.

Hurry _hurry_ faster harder don’t stop never stop—

Then Bokuto is breaking the kiss with a gasp and grabbing Akaashi’s shoulders and pushing him away, holding him at arm’s length. And Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t bear to look and his breathing is ragged and there’s _something_ building inside of him—he feels like a thunderstorm in a bottle, he feels like a dam about to burst and drown a village, he feels like the village. The _something_ is threatening to rip a hole in his chest and leave him hollowed out and absolutely wrecked and— 

Bokuto kisses him again—softly, softly; a gentle brush of lips against lips. Akaashi doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

Then Bokuto’s hands are cupping Akaashi’s face and he starts peppering him with sweet little kisses—on his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. Each one feels like a promise. Akaashi quivers under his touch.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi, what’s the rush?” Bokuto murmurs, his voice oh so quiet. He places a lingering kiss to Akaashi’s forehead, smile pressed to heated skin.

“Have a little patience.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was supposed to be working on a different piece for bokuaka week but this idea grabbed me by the throat and demanded i write it NOW so hey hey hey you can never have enough bokuaka fics am i right or am i right
> 
> anyways we all know that akaashi is very patient w/ bokuto but hot take: bokuto is also very patient with akaashi, just in a different way! they balance each other out because they are SOULMATES and they are PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER thank you goodnight
> 
> follow me on twitter maybe - [@kazdolyn](http://www.twitter.com/kazdolyn)


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